


From The Shadows

by sleepydanceur



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon, Haunted House, M/M, Showtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepydanceur/pseuds/sleepydanceur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chankai's haunted house scene from Showtime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> A YEAR LATER AND I'M STILL SAD WE DIDN'T GET TO SEE CHANKAI'S HAUNTED HOUSE SCENE, and I couldn't get it out of my mind so I indulged myself and did a small thing ;;

“Ready, and…action!”

Chanyeol pushes the door open tentatively, brandishing his little flashlight around the dark room. Jongin follows suit, flicking his own torch on to add more light. The room is empty for the most part, at least from what Chanyeol can see through the weak light. The scattered tables pushed to the side have accumulated enough dust to set his allergies off, and he tugs his scarf up a little higher on his face. Jongin stays close by his side, only a few inches of space between them before he feels Jongin’s fingers curl around the bend of his elbow and he lets himself be pulled closer.

There are folds of tattered old plastic hanging from the ceiling, rustling with the draft. They seem to set off a series of faint little noises everywhere that have the hair rising on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. He turns at the sudden creak of a floorboard behind him and chokes on his own spit right when Jongin shrieks as a dark figure comes flying at them out of the darkness, backing them against a table before retreating. 

“ _Fuck_ , oh _god_ holy shit,” Chanyeol wheezes, clutching his heaving chest. He can almost hear his heart thundering in his ears. Jongin peers around him from where he’s standing behind Chanyeol, squashed against the edge of the table.

“Is it gon– _shit, shit_!”

The figure emerges from the shadows again, charging right at them, reaching out for them with loosely bandaged hands and they scramble over each other, trying to make a mad dash out of the room.

“Try to keep the swearing to a minimum, boys,” the director calls out to them warningly, once they slow down. “Otherwise we won’t be able to salvage anything to broadcast.” 

They stumble into a narrow corridor, the walls grimy enough to look unnervingly eerie. Both coming to a silent agreement, they decide that the best strategy would be to stay close to one of the walls anyway, just so that their backs aren’t exposed. It works for a while, Chanyeol treading as quietly as he can, keeping his eyes peeled. 

Neither of them are expecting it when a door suddenly opens right in the wall. Jongin trips over his own feet with a yell, flailing his arms as he tries to grapple at Chanyeol’s arm for balance. Chanyeol doesn’t even spare another look back, cursing loudly as they barrel their way down the rest of the corridor. 

They skid to a stop when they find a door blocking their way at the very end. 

“Kick it open!” Jongin bellows, frantically yanking at Chanyeol’s arm, throwing anxious glances behind them. 

“Please don’t break the set!” the director exclaims in alarm when Chanyeol actually starts lifting his leg, gearing up to aim a kick at the door. 

“Right, yeah uh, sorry,” Chanyeol lowers his leg sheepishly and remembers to reach out for the doorknob instead.

Pushing it open, he doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath and Jongin’s got brutally steely grip on his arm to the point that he can hardly even feel it. This room is filled with an assortment of indiscernible objects that they can’t really make out even with the light from both their torches.

“It looks emp– _what the_ _fuck is that_ ,”

“ _Jongin-ah!_ ”

“Sorry,” Jongin bows his head apologetically as the director reprimands him again. He shuffles closer to Chanyeol, keeping a wary eye on the odd looking form just a few feet from them. He’s leaning in so close that Chanyeol can feel the warm puffs of his breaths fanning against the side of his face.

“Thought it wa– _holy shit_!”

“ _Fuck_ what, _where_!” Chanyeol roars, whipping around blindly, throwing an arm out to fend off any assailants.

“ _Boys!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry! I could have sworn it was moving,” Jongin mumbles into Chanyeol’s shoulder, nudging him forward, as eager as Chanyeol is to get out of this room. 

Reaching a gloved hand down, Chanyeol holds on to Jongin’s hand and tugs him close. His grip keeps slipping though, the fabric of the gloves sliding against each other and Chanyeol yanks them off, stuffing them into his pocket as he laces their fingers together properly.

The next room is narrow, stacked with broken down cupboards and wooden crates that form a sort of path, like a maze, to the other side. 

They’ve barely taken another step when a bulky shape appears from around the crates and lunges at them, long strands of hair flying in its face as it reaches out for them.

Chanyeol staggers backwards with a shout, nearly crushing Jongin into the wall as the latter yells in his ear.

“Mother _fuck_ ,” Chanyeol wheezes, a hand on his chest. 

They make their way quickly around the maze, wary as they round each wall of crates, jumpy at every little noise. 

“Another bloody corridor,” Chanyeol grumbles as they round the final corner. The director’s exasperated ‘ _I swear to god_ ’ is drowned out by a loud crash and Jongin’s yelp when he accidentally knocks a crate over to the ground.

“Sorry!” Jongin gasps apologetically, even though he’d mostly only startled himself. “My bad.”

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol says, feeling warm when Jongin links their arms together tightly. “Come on let’s get out– ”

He gets cut off when something grabs his ankle and he shrieks, letting out a string of curses as he tries to yank his foot away. Jongin immediately takes off, tearing down the corridor and dragging Chanyeol behind him. Just before they reach the end though, Jongin stops abruptly and Chanyeol rams right into him, making them both stumble a couple of steps. 

“What?” Chanyeol rasps hoarsely.

“Fuck, I dropped my flashlight,” Jongin grunts, backtracking a few steps.

“Just leave it, we’ll get it lat– ”

His words turn into a yell mixed with Jongin’s fresh slew of profanities at sudden figure that leaps out from a hidden door in the wall.

“ _Fucking_ – ”

Jongin propels himself against Chanyeol’s back, pushing forward with a shout as he tries to put distance between them and the figure. 

They finally manage to make their way to the exit door, bursting out into the freezing cold of the winter evening. 

 

“Alright guys that’s a wrap” the director calls, nodding at the crew to shut the equipment off. He sighs exasperatedly, turning to the camera man who shakes his head and shrugs at him silently. “Let’s take ten, everyone.”

They crew trudges off, shivering and eager for a hot cup of coffee. Chanyeol can even hear the raucous sounds of the others laughing as they go off to join the crew for a break too. 

Chanyeol’s just about to follow them but he feels a tug on his hand and Jongin pulls him back inside the set, just behind the flaps of the entrance, hidden away now that the cameras are off. He wastes no time, pulling him closer and kissing him just as Chanyeol falls into him easily, pressing him up against the wall. They giggle into each other’s mouths when they pull away to breathe, the tips of their noses still brushing together. Slipping a hand underneath his jacket, Jongin grins as Chanyeol cups his face, leaning in closer to press their chests flush together before kissing him again. He slides his fingers into Jongin’s soft hair, his own breath hitching at the feeling of Jongin’s hands moving up his front, tracing his ribs with gentle fingers. 

Chanyeol’s lips move away from Jongin’s mouth, pressing a kiss into his jaw before sinking lower. He brushes his mouth lightly along the skin of Jongin’s throat, sucking lightly on a spot just below his jaw.

“Your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, kissing the words into Jongin’s skin, against his pulse. 

“So is yours,” comes Jongin’s reply, his fingers reaching up to wind around Chanyeol’s neck, playing with his hair. He turns his head to press a kiss into Chanyeol’s cheek and Chanyeol wonders if Jongin can feel the way his heart skips a beat too. He lets his eyes slip shut, feeling the warmth of Jongin’s mouth moving to rest just below his eye, brushing lightly over his closed eyes before coming to rest just above his eyebrow. 

“We should probably go join the others,” he breathes against Chanyeol’s skin even as he makes no move to pull away himself.

“Bit longer,” Chanyeol mumbles, voice muffled where he’s buried his face in the hollow of Jongin’s neck. 

“Just a few more min– _holy fuck!_ ”

“ _What, shit,_ shit, _shit_ what is it?” Chanyeol leaps away at Jongin’s exclamation whipping his head around in search of something flying at them from the shadows again. When he turns back he finds Jongin doubled over, riddled with helpless laughter. 

“You dick,” Chanyeol says weakly, a hand over his thundering heart before using the same hand to whack him on the shoulder.

Jongin straightens up, still laughing as he leans in to kiss Chanyeol chastely on the lips again before linking their fingers together. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” he says, pulling Chanyeol along with him and out of the set. Grumbling, Chanyeol follows, his heart still racing, but he squeezes Jongin’s fingers, fitting their linked hands into his pocket to keep them warm.


End file.
